The auto rickshaw weaved in and out of traffic on a busy Friday morning. Ten year old Niyaz was sitting between his parents on the edge of the seat. He was leaning forward onto a metal bar that separated the driver’s front half from the passengers’ rear half. The constant blaring of horns from various motor vehicles, the loud whir of the three wheeler they were sitting in, and even the hoarse voice screaming out election slogans in chaste Tamil on a megaphone did not drown the non-stop chatter between Niyaz’s mother and father.
Niyaz was a skinny little boy with mouse-like features and large attentive eyes. He was dressed in plaid trousers and a white shirt with red embroidery around the button ho...
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